Page 173 of On Edge

And she would have realized just how much of a monster I really am.

Days pass,and the anger dissipates to a dark loathing of myself instead. I have to ignore how cold the halls feel now that she’s gone and throw myself into work.

At least I have work.

Ben, the traitor, still sleeps outside her old room, pacing the halls looking for her, whining.

“She’s not coming back,” I tell him.

He doesn’t believe me.

“She was a lovely girl who deserved better than you,” Kathy decides to lecture me about a week later.

“That’s why I let her go.”

But her expression says she doesn’t believe that for a second.

“Right. Well. Dinner’s at seven if you want it. Though I suspect you’ll be in your office pretending to work while you drink yourself stupid.” She leaves before I can respond to that.

Richard calls, but I don’t answer, even when his lawyers send new documents. I don’t bother to sign them. The marriage was the lynchpin of our arrangement. Without Sage as collateral, the whole deal crumbles….

Which means I’m losing Grayfleet.

The estate my family built, the home they died in, and the land I bought back at inflated prices to have something of theirs again, is going back to that fucker Richard.

I should care.

But I don’t.

I was never going to keep it after I found the evidence I needed. After Crazy Roy told me, when I eventually managed to hunt him down, that Nell did hire his boat, but not one in London. One in Fleet. I knew she had been lying to me about where she had seen the documents, and that looking around Southwark for her was a waste of time.

She lied to me. It was always Grayfleet.

Richard’s excavation company snapped up the property after the fire; of course, that was where he’d kept everything. That was the only reason I bought it at the auction, paying a ridiculous price to have it there and then, no delays. Her disappearance was linked to this cursed place. Only when Richard found out who’d bought it, a foreign billionaire throwing money around, he thought that he could worm his way into my good graces withhis ridiculous marriage proposal. It turns out he was looking for the evidence too.

Fuck it.

I turn off my phone and shove it in a drawer. Anything urgent can come through Mundel.

About five days after the non-wedding, Mundel brings me the papers that make it official. “If you don’t respond to Richard’s attorneys by Friday, the sale reverts. Grayfleet goes back to him.”

“Fine.”

Mundel stares at me and then huffs. “I’ll arrange for the movers to come tomorrow, then shall I?”

“You do that.” I don’t look up from my laptop.

“Are you really going to let thisgirldistract you from the plan?”

“It’s just a house, Mundel.” What’s the point of having Grayfleet if she’s not in it? What’s the point of any of fucking things these days?

“She was just another whore.”

“What did you say?” Now, I look up, not fucking amused. “Say that again so I can cut your tongue from your head.” The only reason I haven’t yet is that I need him more than ever. He’s the reason my business deals haven’t gone south yet. Maybe that’s why he thinks he can goad me into a reaction.

“Thank fuck, you’re still in there. But snap out of this goddam pussy energy now because I have shit to do.” Mundel snarls, and then he stalks out.

I go back to pretending I’m fine.